Years
by Candy3314
Summary: Because Hiro's just too dang important in just about everything, and I really needed to get on top of that whole big brother thing.


**Enjoy!**

Hiro had been most unfortunate to have reached the age of basic social (or more specifically _talking_) development right when Mom and Dad had passed away, so when we probably should have been laughing and communicating on a normal level, Aunt Cass and I were sharing up to about four exchanges a day, and at this time Aunt Cass hadn't started up the cafe yet, so not even the many faces and unique little mumblings of clients could keep Hiro's ears company.

So he stayed tucked away in his colored-letter block fortresses and mooing child devices which slowly morphed into Chemistry and Geometry books (and I'm still not completely sure how he'd gotten those, because I hadn't even reached High school yet and you couldn't catch Aunt Cass with a textbook to save your life, but I didn't question it) for a better half of his first five years of life.

I'd been nine at the time, with a head usually revolving around school and not my cold and a bit disturbed home life. I loved school, though. Mom and Dad had already put lots of importance on my academics, so it was already a large part of my life. But when they passed away? It _became_ my life.

The only thing I really remember from back then was the bright, natural light of the classroom with the large windows and its plato-smelling cleanness. Another thing that stuck vividly to mind was the pretty, quiet yet not-so-shy neck of the girl who sat right in front of me every year of primary. She had rich black hair that was always done in a perfectly-tailored pixie cut, and I'd really loved that back then. I remember laughing- not really what about, but just the laughing. School was a breeze and studying was more of a meditation than a task, sitting traditionally in my comfy chair with the dark wooden desk and warm lamp light. Even if I didn't have to study, which I never did, I still did it.

If I was out, I was at school, and if I wasn't at school and still insistently out, I was with classmates or at robotic conventions; still only with classmates. When I wasn't out and therefore at home, I ate accordingly (because food was very important, as Mom'd say) and go straight up to studying and maybe a little tinkering with my small objects, or, if you'd like to humor me back then, 'inventions' which were really just wheels and nails put together nicely enough to be able to move and do nothing much else, but it entertained me fairly well.

But how could I forget Hiro and I's traditional bonding time. It consisted of my walking-ins from school, dropping my bag, and looking softly over Hiro's always preoccupied shoulder, his body sat right in the dot middle of the living room. I'd examine his project of the day briefly (which is how I'd been able to study his progressing evolution from building blocks to Calculus) and ruffle his messy (I don't believe we ever taught him to brush it) hair before sliding into the connecting kitchen and fetching two glasses of milk and steadily placing one right by his sat position, then going right to my room.

During this entire exchange Hiro would (and quite comically but also a bit worryingly) make no movement whatsoever. He'd just stare with those huge, brown eyes captivatingly at whatever he was doing.

I'd never be sure when he'd drink the milk, but every time I'd come back into the living room (most likely for dinner as I'd rarely left my room for anything else) the glass would be sat there, showing no signs of having changed besides the sudden, noticeable lack of milk cleared all the way to the bottom. Hiro would be sat right beside it where he'd been just like before, still preoccupied. After that I'd take the glass back and maybe remember to ask Hiro if he'd eaten which he never responded to so I just fixed him a plate anyways, and despite my promptings he refused to come to the table, so just like his daily glass of milk, the plate was put right beside him. I'd never get to see if he'd actually ever eat it, though.

Aunt Cass worked a lot as a waitress, with lots of hurried conversations and stress eating as well as the casual break-down or two. I'd never talked about it or really showed anything towards it, but the sort of unstable feeling that gravitated around our small family back then really upset me, and looking at it now, I wonder how Hiro had felt about it, seeing as you couldn't read a damn thing off his face except his clingy interest in random objects and his obvious decline of acknowledgment to anything that wasn't this certain interest that he had his big brain wrapped around- And yeah, I'd known he was smart since day one, and if the textbooks at three didn't give it away, his quietness did- far too quiet to have an average child's intelligence... or his eyes- his eyes were a dead give away with just the way he looked at things with a strong, seeking curiosity.

Sometimes I'd think about if Hiro were sad since he was so smart. He must have known what was going on around him with Aunt Cass's frequent rent scares and once a month 'meetings' over our custody and care which usually landed us both silent in small black fold-up chairs outside a hard office in an all silent, besides the faint echos of heels-clicking, hallway.

Now I think about how I'd escaped from that- I had school; My bright, happy school to live in and trail off the thoughts of destruction in the empty apartment. Hiro did not have that get-away. I'd never even considered it back then- only his building blocks and textbooks. It's a sad thought, especially if Hiro really had been smart enough to understand what was happening... and I knew he did. I really did, seeing those bright eyes staring at pages, and then their sudden deadness when looking through the hallway of faint heel clicks and silence.

Hiro's first day to school was our first break of ritual as I had to help organize him and walk him to school which really just came down to walking him to and from home as Aunt Cass fused over him profusely, constantly re-aligning his uniform vest and tie, crouching down to smile at him, talking on and on about her school experiences which Hiro promptly said nothing to.

It was many false alarms and _many _pictures taken before she finally cut us loose, and just for the good measure, I grabbed onto Hiro's hand as we made our way to school for Aunt Cass's enjoyment. Hiro didn't seem to mind, staring straight out in front of us the entire, twisty road to the elementary.

Hiro had spent only five days in Pre-K before immediately being recommended to start first grade, skipping both Pre-K and Kindergarten at age five, which was a pretty good thing considering Hiro, as I'd imagined, would be quite bored out of his mind by both grades, and maybe even first grade would get too drawling for him. That, and Pre-K was further out of town and thus Aunt Cass would have to drop him off and pick him up in her car, only causing more things for her to worry about and cutting way too much time off that she could have been using to work and provide.

As we approached the elementary gates, Hiro's face only flickered a bit to look at the building before we stopped at the entrance and I looked down to him. "Do you want me to walk you to your room?" I asked, hoping he'd reply for just this once.

Softly, he nodded negatively and I smiled back to it, even if he probably couldn't see me through his mob of hair and shortness. Without another word we separated and my mind trailed from how he'd get along in school to my own class.

After school, I made quick haste to the elementary seeing as they let out earlier than us middle schoolers. It was an odd feeling of not spending as much time there (at school) as I could, and just as confusing for my fellow classmates as I dismissed all their invitations.

When I walked up to the elementary Hiro was sat on the low stone pillars connecting the ligament gate poles with the same look upon his face as this morning, as if he'd never even moved from that spot by the entrance gate.

We didn't speak as he hopped off the pillar, consciously grabbing my hand and beginning to walk. I was shocked by this, and a little embarrassed, but remembering that I'd been the one to lead him on for it that morning, and that it'd be even more awkward to detach our hands and try to explain that I'd only done it to soothe Aunt Cass, let our hands stay joined.

And good thing too, because right when we entered the shopping avenues there was a big rush into the streets, and I had to pull Hiro right in front of me, both of my hands on his shoulders to make sure he wasn't dragged away.

We continued walking, with a few mishaps here and there, but luckily none particularly our fault, and glided by just like every day, the shops blending into different strips of color and bubbly signs as we paced through with just a bit more speed than usual.

"Tadashi!" shouted a voice from within the sea of voices, signaling also one small head of blonde to start shaking humorlessly, hands coming up with it and dancing.

"Tom!" I called back, sweeping under the overhang of a little shop to pull us out of the stream, Hiro practically smudged up into the glass as I waved back, though far less enthusiastically.

Tom took some time, but eventually reached us. "Hey, Tadashi-" his words hanged off his mouth as soon as his eyes trailed down to the smaller one behind me. "Wow, is this your brother?" he asked excitedly, crouching down and laughing as he ruffled Hiro's hair. "Wow- heh- hair's kinda tangly, huh?"

Hiro stared at him with large, brown eyes and his tiny frown, head slightly turned down as he was addressed.

Tom's smile widened, leaning in inquiringly. "Now, what was your name? Tadashi never mentioned it," he said, looking up at me with a roll of his eyes, as if to put the blame on the elder sibling in order to maybe get a kick out of the younger, who stared on, taking one little step back.

"His name is Hiro," I intervened, unwrapping Hiro's fingers from my hand, which clung like clay for a few moments before tucking into his chest, and pushed my brother forward a bit.

"Hero!" Tom exclaimed, as he looked from me back onto Hiro who took another step back only to bump into me, so I, begrudgingly, nudged him forward once more. "That's, like, the coolest name ever!"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah; H, _I,_ R, O- Hiro."

Tom glared back up at me, bottom lip almost protruding like the baby he was sometimes, which I casually would have blanched at. "Way to take the fun out of things. Like usual..." he looked at Hiro, "Am I right?"

Hiro, meanwhile, had his chin firmly dug into his chest the entire one-sided chat, as he slowly gravitated further behind my back and into the glass of the shop.

Tom's smile lopped a bit at Hiro's receding body, and he popped back up with another, just as bright, smile to me and began chatting again, and I did just _slightly_ better than Hiro on adding in my own input to the conversation. Though Tom could be irrelevant, I stayed at attention for as long as I had to entertain him; not doing so was rude, and sure enough, after multiple false alarms, Tom finally flew off with promises of tomorrow.

I shook my head, letting out a puff of air I didn't know I was holding and turned to walk on into the cluster, that is, before bumping into a certain little brother. Slightly confused at Hiro's paralyzed state, looking right through the glass into the display case, I looked over into the shop, seeing the numerous bright colors of print in comic books. Bright splats of 'BAM!' and 'POW!' stood out prominently from the signs decorating the shop, muscly men lining the boutique of dusty, nerd artifacts wrapped in plastic wrap.

I looked down at Hiro, who stared- bless him-in utter awe- and no, not at the busty woman and super-powered mutants turned man-model-in-tights, but at the cyborgs and laser-eyed, giant 70's robots terrorizing the city's masses- His face was so amusing, I had to indulge his child-like curiosity.

"You wanna go in?" I asked. He nodded immediately, moving to the small door with his usual purposeful stride as I leisured on behind him.

We walked in, the door's bell chiming lightly after us into the quiet, empty space, the musks of old paper and dust hitting my senses, feeling oddly pleasant as a mildly grumpy teenager glanced up at us only momentarily before diving back into whatever she was doing beneath the desk, which really was curious, but I strayed from the thought almost immediately as Hiro looked about warily. I hurried up from the side of him, reaching inside the comic shelves, flipping through the long rows of thin, more fictional-like newspapers.

Hiro stood right beside the case, eyes barely reaching over the shelf to follow my skimming hands before I picked out a well-crafted looking visual-novel on the adventures of mad scientist Halbert Knickers (who, quite honestly, I only picked out because of the silly name because I didn't know a thing about comics). I handed it to Hiro, who snatched it with small hands and brought it out of sight before I could blink. His stunningly brown eyes were now trained below him, moving erratically and very quickly over what I assumed were the rusty pages. And for a moment, I didn't know whether to be worried for them, or jealous.

I smiled lightly at Hiro's squirrelly behavior before flipping through the comics once again like browsing for CDs which I was far more familiar with, even if I didn't even own the collectable music relics. My friends from school seemed awfully fond of them though, and I often tagged along for lack of anything much better to do, even if I always ended up buying some girl a frozen lemonade afterwards, and a very happy linking of arms with her too.

We'd eventually picked out a maximum of five comics by the end of my searching and Hiro's perplexing looking examinations. It hadn't been easy as I'd originally thought, as often the comics I pulled Hiro would return moments later, poking its pointy edges into my side until I took it from him, inferencing clearly that the comics did not reach his liking, which entertained me considerably.

But we'd finally settled, or rather, Hiro had settled, and we stood for pay-in by the front desk where the teenage girl once again acknowledged us bad spiritedly, ringing us up hastily in order to have us out the door.

I glanced down, Hiro looking much like he did over the counter to the girl as he did me just moments before while I looked through the comics, a light in his face that made my stomach warm, happy little tendrils going up my chest and swelling up my chest in what I could clearly categorize as pride. That was the first time I really ever felt like an actual older brother, not the babysitter of some creepy kid that I was somewhat fond of, which I really hoped translated over to Hiro too.

I spotted just beside the register the regular packs of candies, and thinking offhandedly about how Hiro, rather strangely, had never really gotten candy. Aunt Cass, even when she had the time, never gave many sweets to us, much less sugary, fruity, or God forbid _gooey_ treats. She was more of a chocolate or pastry kind of girl. In fact, chocolate was the only candy she was able to stand, stating more than often, "Chocolate is an_ art. _Gummys, or whatever you kids eat these days, is pure, colored, _crap_ sugarcane- Oh, I mean- Hey, don't say mean words; mean words are bad words."

I reached blindly to the first sweetmeat that caught my eye, which happened to be Gummy Bears, ironically, and slapped them onto the counter last minute.

The teenager totaled our purchases, stacked them disinterestedly into the customary plastic bag, and handed it with a weak wrist over the counter, which Hiro abducted right away into his own arms, securing it like it was his newborn onto his shoulder as I headed for the door and he followed, not a step off my own pace until we were again on concrete, and the rush hour crowds had spilled out into the street's usual flow.

When we'd arrived home, dinner was already made and out on the table. Which never happened, because Aunt Cass was never home to do so. Today, however, was a very special day, being Hiro's first day of school.

The feeling, I'll admit, was nice. Aunt Cass rarely smiled, and seeing her so happy really opened up a rather bizarre happiness in myself also, even when I would've thought I should feel a bit of resentment, seeing as the only thing important enough to get Aunt Cass's attention was one of Hiro's "achievements", and not any of mine.

"I didn't see any feast for my first day in middle school", which I know was probably the most childish thing I could've ever said, which is exactly why I hadn't said it. Plus, I wasn't really feeling such words any more. I had been preparing them all day, steaming over the thought that she'd get off early to make dinner, judging off her pondering this morning already over Hiro. But fact is, as soon as I'd walked into the comfortingly warm apartment, I had completely forgotten about these things and merely embarrassed the niceness of it, and a harsh word hadn't crossed my mind since.

Instead what was wandering my mind was the distinct smell of chili peppers, the last time I'd ever seen a grin on Aunt Cass's face, and when was the last time I'd ever obsessed over a comic book (or, in this day and age, a hologram of one or internet-accessed over a pad, seeing as the actual physical books more so belonged to the hardcore fans and when they were convenient enough).

Aunt Cass's thoughts seemed to be traveling the same way as mine as she noticed Hiro's preciously held bag, and looked curiously down to it as Hiro passed, ruffling his hair with her palm which combed his nest as he moved forward and behind her, saying, "Come on in to dinner boys!" She glanced only momentarily to Hiro before grabbing me by my shoulders as I walked forward to the table, looking me sweetly in the eyes before muttering a soft, "Thank you." which I wasn't exactly sure if it was for walking Hiro to school and home or for Hiro's little gift, but looking into her winking eyes, I'd happily settle as her thanking me for just being flexible with her.

Right after that she scurried back into the kitchen, and I walked in as the snail (or maybe just the _normal_) one of the family, and sat right across from Hiro as she placed a bowl of red-hot chicken wings on the small table before taking a seat right in between us.

It was only when I had a bite of my Aunt Cass's cooking that I realized my own was heavily flawed. I somewhat began to fear I'd never be able to stand the taste of my homemade ham and cheese sandwich again. That is, until the spicy-ness settled in... and then the numbness. Quite soon after that, I couldn't really imagine being able to stand the taste of _any_ food again.

During this whole time Aunt Cass laughed through her mouth-fulls of chicken, her own face going red and her lips swollen from the tingly sauce, though she was incredibly more hysterical with her lack of neatness, leaving her fingers, part of her face, and a bit of her chest covered in rich, staining hot sauce.

Hiro, however, had the right to crown as king of spicy, for when he tucked into his side of the table, munching happily on his drumstick, not a flicker of hesitation entered his large, telling eyes. His feet even swung joyously under the table as he striped bone after bone, and I and Aunt Cass almost found the need to start recording just how much he was eating, for some world record just had to be in the making here.

Shortly after deeming Hiro clinically unable to eat anymore, Hiro and I were back in our room, or at least, Hiro was, reading his comics. I, meanwhile, took a shower, and vaguely wondered if Hiro ever took one too, before then feeling kinda horribly bad realizing just how much I didn't know about my own brother- and not in the 'I didn't even know my brother was into this-that' or 'I had no idea he felt this way'. I'm talking about the goddamn _basics. 'Hm, _I wonder if he speaks at all', 'Does he _own_ a brush?', 'Does he own a _tooth_brush? (-this, I was happy to conclude, was a yes after I'd checked the bathroom for the tooth-tools and found in addition of my green and Aunt Cass's pink, a lone blue one courtesy of Hiro)', 'How long has it been since we bought him new clothes?', 'How long has he had _those_ clothes?', 'Has Hiro started school yet?', and, my favorite, 'Does he _eat _while I'm gone?'. It wouldn't surprise me if I'd lost track of his godforsaken age (because God knows he's usually 2 years older than what he actually looks like)... Wait... he's 5, right? 

Just kidding, I definitely knew his age. It always had stood out as a prominent importance for him, considering most of the family discussions were over his schooling and which grades he was going to skip and wholly hell how old will he be _then_? His advisors liked to talk about that; his age.

Oh, yeah, Hiro has _advisors._ He's had them for a very long time, in fact. Ever since we found out he's a genius (which, for me, has been since the first time I laid eyes on him- some sort of brotherly telepathic thing) they've been there, and that's how I assumed Aunt Cass always had so much trouble trying to keep us, and why she had to fill in so many more 'requirements' than other guardians did. Hiro was just too _important _to screw up. It kinda hurt, thinking of it like that; I don't know why, but I just felt that echoing thud in my stomach whenever I thought about it. Like the first paralyzed moment when your phone going off in a silent room. 

I came back into our room, wincing as usual in response to our cold tile floors on my feet. That tile couldn't possibly be healthy for Hiro's big head to land on, yet was cheaper and simpler to clean. I contemplated going into the bathroom to change, as Hiro was here, and I'd never really been in our room with him if we weren't sleeping. It was warmer in the bathroom too, still steamy with my previous shower, but I ended up changing in the room out of mere habit and the eagerness to get out of the cold- Hiro was too wrapped up in his comics to be weirded out anyways.

After changing I body-slammed into my small twin bed which rolled out of its corner slightly from the impact (our beds were on wheels- the actual headboards were too expensive), and ducked into the covers which were also, sadly, very cold. But shivering as I did, the sheets up to my nose, it was sure to warm up soon enough with my body heat and I relaxed, wet hair soaking my lone pillow, looking up at the white ceiling and the hanging home-made plane model along with its long shadows. The plane was made of a nice, blonde wood- like a toothpick color. I had made it with Dad, and Hiro had watched excitedly, trying to touch it. I remember wanting to actually fly it, and how that had all made such perfect sense in my mind at the time. Hiro wouldn't have been like that- he would have made it happen. Heck, I don't even know if he already _has _done it.

Typical Hiro.

I looked over at him- still reading his comics. I never would have expected we would have gotten a call the very next week- a phone call from a very fussy advisor and a teacher on the edge of tears (no doubt having been interrogated by the advisor) over Hiro's apparent absences from school for the past week.

He was band from comics for awhile after that, which luckily he seemed to express a large interest in now, and was personally walked to classes by assigned persons, despite how much Aunt Cass found it troubling.

A few weeks after that- Hiro _really_ doesn't like school, and apparently, any input the advisors have to say about it.

I never would have guessed he would been such a God dang troublemaker.

**Don't know exactly where I'm going with this but I've got a few ideas. Definitely less brooding and the forming of Hiro into how we all know and love him next chapter. That is, if you want more... **_**(cough) please let me know (cough)**_


End file.
